Worlds Apart
by Angel Barton
Summary: A chance meeting with a strange woman changes the Winchesters' lives as her path becomes inexorably entangled with their own. AU timeline with OC that roughly follows the events of the show.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter** **One**

Dean smiled as he heard the first few chords of "Ramble On" emanate from the old jukebox across the room. He knew Sam didn't quite understand his love for the songs on the aging collection of cassette tapes in the Impala and their ilk, he was simply content to humor his big brother. While Dean did prefer the lyrics and sound of classic rock to the pop garbage that passed for music nowadays, it was more about what the songs represented to him. Times spent driving the open road with his family, the three of them together. The soundtrack of his childhood. A comforting constant in the crazy life he and his brother led.

That life currently found the two of them bellied up at the end of bar. After finishing a job they'd stopped in a small town outside of Decatur, Illinois for the night. A simple salt and burn case that served as a refreshing change of pace from the crap hand they'd been dealt lately. Between their father's death and their seemingly never ending hunt for the yellow-eyed demon, Dean was happy to get back to work doing what qualified as normal for a hunter.

He drained the last of his beer and, noticing that Sam had nearly reached the dredges of his as well, motioned to the bartender for another round. As he waited for their drinks, he spared a glance around the bar and shook his head with a wry smirk. No matter how often the location changed, the scenery never seemed to. The roadhouse they currently found themselves included have been any of hundreds that he'd passed through over the years. Same dim lighting, same dingy atmosphere, same underlying smell of stale beer and smoke.

He paused as his eyes slid over to the back corner of the room. There was one thing he was always glad to see change. _New town, new opportunities,_ he thought, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. The twenty-something was staring in the direction of the TV above the bar as the slim fingers curled around her beer bottle tapped absently along to Led Zeppelin. As the bartender arrived with their drinks, he took advantage of her distraction to give her an appreciative once-over.

Long dirty blonde hair framed an attractive face before falling over her shoulders in sleek strands. A snug black tank top left her toned arms bare and, much to Dean's delight, an alluring amount of her chest exposed. From this distance he couldn't make out the color of her eyes but from the furrow of her brow he could tell they weren't really focus on the local news coverage of a high school football game. She seemed deep in thought as she pursed her lips, drawing his attention to her full mouth.

His musings of what those lips might feel like yielding under his were interrupted by a theatrical sigh. "You just can't help yourself, can you?" Sam challenged as Dean tore his gaze away from the woman to look at his younger brother.

Dean smiled cheekily, "What can I say Sammy, I've got an appreciation for the finer things in life.

"Whatever man," Sam said, shaking his head but grinning good-naturedly. He took a large swig of his beer and stood, clapping his brother on the shoulder before turning and heading in the direction of the restroom.

Dean watched Sam's departing back before returning his focus back to object of his earlier attention. After a moment, he took a drink and stood to cross the room, beer in hand. As he neared the woman's table, he put on what he knew from past experience to be quite the ladykiller smile and waited for her to look his way. When she didn't move, his smile faltered slightly, and he cleared his throat.

After a moment she turned her head towards him, eyes looking up at him from under raised brows. "This seat taken?" he asked, gesturing at the vacant spot next to her.

She leaned back in her chair to look him over briefly, a hint of a smile playing over her lips. "Knock yourself out," she replied.

As he pulled out the chair and settled into it, he used the closer distance to get a better look at her. A faded scar across her right cheek was the only real blemish to her sun-kissed complexion. Minimal makeup left her fresh-faced, a nice change from the overly dolled-up women he normally encountered in these type of places. A long silver chain encircled her neck, though whatever hung from it was hidden from his view as the ends disappeared tantalizingly beneath the neckline of her shirt.

He flicked his gaze upwards and found himself looking into the entrancing mix of steely grey and clear blue in her eyes. When she raised an eyebrow at him, he realized he'd been staring and collected himself. "I'm Dean," he began conversationally, and waited for her to return the courtesy. When her only reply was to raise her beer bottle to her lips, he smirked. "Okay then." He sat back in his chair, intrigued in spite of himself. "So, you from around here?"

She snorted as she swallowed her drink. "Your pickup lines need some work," she said, eying him with a mix of amusement and disdain.

"Well it's not like you're giving me much to work with here," he replied, spreading his hands wide. "Wanna throw me a bone?"

She regarded him silently for a moment before quirking the corner of her mouth upwards. "Just passing through."

"Ah, look at that. We have something in common," he said, tipping his beer bottle towards her with a charming smile. "See what happens when you share?"

She allowed a small chuckle and smiled back at him. Taking that as the most encouraging sign he'd be likely to get, Dean put both elbows on the table and decided to go for broke.

"Maybe there are some... _other_ things we can share with each other," he added with a wicked grin.

She set the bottle on the table, dropping her gaze. When she looked back up at him, it was from beneath seductively lowered lashes. "Sounds fun," she purred, leaning towards him. Dean copied her body language, surprised that his tongue-in-cheek comment had elicited such a response. He'd half expected to get slapped. His gaze was unconsciously drawn to her mouth as she parted her lips slightly.

He was considering closing the last bit of distance between them when she pulled back suddenly. "But, as the song says," she explained with a wink, "I've gotta ramble on," pushing back her chair and standing. She dug into her pocket, threw a couple of bills on the table, and reached for the jacket she had slung over her chair.

Taken aback by the quick turn of events, Dean sat back in his chair heavily and tried to compose himself. "Shame, and here I was thinking that we were hitting it off so well," he said, smiling flirtatiously.

She gave a short laugh, "Trust me, we weren't." She shrugged into her jacket and flipped her hair out from beneath the collar. "But don't feel bad. It's not you, it's me, or however that drivel goes." She reached for her beer and finished it off before looking back at him, her gaze taking on any icy edge that belied her playful tone. "I just don't play well with others," she concluded with a wink before moving away.

As she walked behind him, he dropped his gaze to the table and smiled wryly at her rejection. He turned his head to watch her leave and was surprised to feel her hair brush the back of his neck as she leaned close, lips nearly touching behind his ear.

"Especially Winchesters."


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note \- Hi all! So general disclaimer, this is my first attempt at a Supernatural fic. I'm not new to writing in general, it's just been a long time since I've actually done any. I hope you like the story so far(as little of it as there is), please feel free to review with any feedback, comments, or criticism that you may have. Thanks!

* * *

 **Chapter Two**

The quiet, cold words hit Dean as strongly as if they'd been shouted. After recovering from his momentary shock, he spun to face her but she was already gone, weaving her way through tables towards the exit. As he rose to follow, he felt his breath catch when he realized her path would take her right past Sam, who'd since returned to his perch at the bar. He moved as quickly as he could without making a scene, his hand inching towards the blade in his waistband.

Sam looked up from his drink as he heard footsteps nearing and saw the woman his brother had been pursuing striding towards his end of the bar. He let his gaze trail down her figure as she neared him, admiring the curves of her hips and shapely denim-wrapped legs. She met his gaze with a smirk, and he turned in his seat to watch her breeze out the door. He heard his brother coming up behind him and bit back a laugh.

"Ran her off that quickly, huh? That's gotta be some kind of record for you," he quipped, turning to face Dean. His grin evaporated as he caught sight of the dark look on his brothers face. "What's wrong?"

Dean held up a hand with a sharp "Stay here, Sam," as he stalked past him without stopping. He shoved the door open and stepped out into the crisp evening air. He scanned the dim parking lot for movement, eyes squinting in the fading twilight. His head whipped to the left as he heard an engine roar to life from the side of the building. He rounded the corner and made a beeline for the blazing red tail lights but stopped short as the tires spun into the dirt as his quarry peeled out of the lot. Coughing, he glared into the night as he watched the lights fading into the distance.

Sam was just making a move for the door, unsettled by his brother's quick exit, when Dean walked back in. "What the hell was that?" he asked, feeling the tension roll off his brother as he settled himself back into the seat next to him.

"Not sure," Dean replied, grabbing Sam's beer and taking a long drink. Ignoring the glare he received, he continued, "I don't know man, I may be overreacting."

"Would you just spit it out?" shot Sam, growing irritated with his brother's vagueness. "And get your own," he added and snatched his drink back.

Dean stared at his now-empty hand for a moment with a frown before sighing and looking back at his brother. "She knew who I am, Sammy. Who we are."

"What? What do you mean? That we're hunters?" came the confused reply.

"That we're Winchesters," Dean spat bluntly, feeling a slight sense of validation as his brother's eyebrows shot up in shock.

"How? I mean, what did she say?" Sam asked as Dean rested his elbows against the bar, absently rubbing the back of his neck.

Dean recapped the exchange he'd had with the woman, including the disdain in her voice as she'd uttered their last name. "And she hit the asphalt before I could catch up with her," he finished.

"So you didn't get her name. Anything else?" Sam asked hopefully. "What kind of car she was driving?"

"Too dark to see anything specific," Dean replied with a grimace. "Dark color, maybe black, old school definitely." He shook his head, "I don't know man, it's just weird. She's gotta be a hunter, right? What else could she be?"

"Well, maybe Bobby would know who she is then," Sam reasoned. "And if he doesn't know he can probably ask around to see if anyone else does." Nodding in agreement, Dean motioned for his brother to finish his beer and pulled out his wallet to settle their tab.

* * *

As they walked through the parking lot towards the Impala, Sam dug his phone out of his pocket and hit Bobby's number on speed dial. He switched to speaker phone while the two climbed into the car. After a few rings, the line picked up with a familiar gruff, "Hello."

"Bobby, hey, it's Sam. I got kind of an odd question for you."

Dean could picture the sour expression on Bobby's face when he replied, "Since when are the questions I deal with ever not odd?"

"Right… so Dean had an interesting run-in with a woman at a roadhouse a little wa outside of Decatur," Sam continued. "We think she might be a hunter."

"A hunter, huh? What makes you say that?" asked the older man.

Dean took over. "She and I were talking when she decided to, um, take her leave-"

"She shut him down cold," interjected Sam with a chuckle, earning a withering look from his brother.

"Sounds like a smart girl," Bobby said, the amusement evident in his tone.

"Anyways, she decided to do a little name dropping on the way out to really drive home her point. Seems she's not too fond of Winchesters."

Bobby's sigh came through loudly on the phone. "Well it's not like your identities are a state secret or anything boys. Although I can see how it might have spooked ya a bit coming out of the blue like that."

"We were hoping you might know who she is," Dean prompted.

"What'd she look like? Useful details, Dean. Cup size is not helpful."

"Very funny," Dean countered, rolling his eyes. "Mid to late twenties, maybe 5' 6", blonde, blue-grey eyes, scar on her right cheek. Drives some kind of late-model muscle, dark colored. Ringing any bells?"

There was a slight pause before Bobby spoke. "Sorry boys, I got nothing. Then again it's not like I know everyone operating out there."

The two boys looked at each other before Sam spoke up. "Think you might be able to ask around about her?"

"Yeah, sure. I'll put some feelers out. Where you heading now?"

"Staying here for the night, probably head west in the morning to look for another case," Dean answered. "Got anything for us?"

"Not at the moment, but I'll give ya a holler if I do," Bobby assured them.

"Thanks Bobby," Sam replied and snapped his phone shut.

The two sat in silence for a moment before Dean reached for the ignition. "I don't know about you," he growled, looking over at Sam and the engine turned over, "but I gotta bad feeling about all of this."

* * *

That night at the motel, the troublesome feeling still hadn't abated. Dean lay awake in bed, one hand behind his head as he stared at the ceiling. He kept replaying the encounter over and over in his mind trying to identify anything he might have missed, some clue as to what the woman was. There had been no tell-tale flash of black eyes or scent of sulfur. The necklace, if it truly was silver, would rule out a multitude of potential nasties. After ticking through the list of every potential monster or supernatural being he could think, the simplest explanation remained – she was human.

On some level, that thought disturbed Dean more than he'd care to admit. If the woman had been a vampire or a demon it would have put him more at ease. Monsters were simple. They were driven by hunger, by rage, or other black and white motivations. Humans, on the other hand, were complicated, unpredictable. Their natures tended to dance across all shades of grey, their decisions shaped by warped senses of right and wrong. What a strange life he lead, that nightmare creatures scared him less than people.

His thoughts then shifted from what to whom, and began piecing together what he knew of her. After a quick review, he realized it was dishearteningly little. Aside from her parting words, his exchange with the woman was unremarkable. She'd humored his flirtations with restrained amusement and offered only carefully measured responses in return. He added to that the flash of a mischievous streak shown with her rejection of his uncouth proposition. She obviously hadn't wanted to kill the two of them or she wouldn't have shown her hand and left as she had, so there was a calculating mind behind those stormy eyes. Rounding it out was the shaky assumption that she was a fellow hunter, and the picture he was left with was painfully thin.

He sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face in frustration. He hated not knowing what he was up against. In their line of work, not knowing got you killed. With everything that had been going on in the last few weeks, the last thing he and Sam needed was to be watching their backs for some blonde with a grudge. _Even one as good-looking as her_ , he though with a half-hearted grin. Realizing that worrying over something currently beyond his control would accomplish nothing but cost him sleep, he rolled onto his stomach and did his best to relax. As he drifted off to sleep, his last thoughts were filled with fleeting glimpses of a wry smile and eyes that alternated between sparkling with mischief and flashing like tempered steel.


End file.
